Alexandra Cromwell and The Order of The Phoenix
by AnnaCromwell
Summary: Alexandra Cromwell, Slytherin extraordinaire, only daughter of extremely rich, prodigious wizards has a secret any Slytherin would loathe. The prophecy to her name strengthens her, but makes her acceptance a distant dream. Added to the consternation of the Order and the strength of the Dark Lord growing is the fact that a Death Eater's son has taken to fancy her. What happens next?
1. Misunderstood

Alexandra Cromwell had always been misunderstood.

Even when her parents were attacked, everyone save them felt it was **_her _**fault. Like the Dark Lord was here, hot on Alexander and Ariana Cromwell's heels, just to kill their one year old child, like she was the cause of all problems. Just because she was born, her parents had almost been hit by the Killing Curse **_twice_.**

But that was part and parcel of being Alexandra Cromwell.

Daughter of the famed Irish Purebloods, the Cromwells, Alexandra was born with a platinum spoon. Her family was the oldest Wizarding families to have existed in the nation and had been rulers of Ireland when Wizards could live with Muggles in utter peace, hence the huge reservoir at Gringotts. Her parents were both wizards and of prodigious skill, so good that they were fabled to rival Dumbledore, rumors which they modestly rubbished by saying that no matter how skilled they were, there was no substitute for Dumbledore's experience, something they couldn't have gained in thirty-five short years of life.

Apart from being gifted with her parent's prodigious skill and equally elegant, timeless and graceful looks, they were one of the few pure-blood families who were strongly against the Dark Lord Voldemort. And they were not ashamed of it, which became a reason why the young girl was rendered friendless by her very cousins. Except for a particular member of the Black family, being her uncle and god-father and an uncle she had lost in a terrifying accident, there was no one in the Pureblood community who wished to keep social ties with the Cromwells.

She loved it.

She loved the fact that her parents were brave enough to stand up; of course, it seemed easy when you have a mountain of Galleons and equal amounts of Wizarding skill, with extreme influence in the Ministry and the upper echelons of the Wizarding community to boot. But it really wasn't. There was the stigma of being outcast, and even though she could see the smiles on people's faces as they spoke to her parents about how they were deeply supportive of this mission, she could not help but see the contempt, the loathing and the fakeness of it all, something that was never seen on her parents faces.

"Father, I wonder," she'd once asked when she was four. "We're doing a good thing, helping Muggle-borns and people who need our money and help to fight against the Dark Lord. Why do people hate us?"

"Because they aren't strong enough to do what we do, my dear," he'd replied with a smile. "We've always been strong, and always will be. And so will you, because you are your mama and papa's daughter, aren't you?" said her mother, looking into her daughter inquisitive, keen green eyes. By the time she was eight, she had the intelligence and the understanding of a thirteen-year old. Her superior IQ and the values of tolerance, combined with her unquenchable curiosity was the reason she could understand and appreciate Bathilda Bagshot and William Blake with equal ease, how The Tale of Three Brothers and The Snow Queen were stories she knew by heart at the age of five. She used to tinker with Muggle computers and iPads and learned what they called 'programming'. Her parents told her it was very much like the Arithmancy in the books that were kept in their bedroom. Her love for the piano was evident, for she used to be told off for playing the piano at three in the night, a very unhealthy habit for a child who was on the threshold of turning nine.

Then came the magic.

They were sure that their daughter was a witch, a **_Pureblood _**witch, to be precise, yet Alexander and Ariana harbored the fear that their daughter might turn out be a normal human after all. Well, she, with her IQ and not-so-surprisingly high tolerance for all beings and creatures good, would prosper in a world she would set foot in on the occasion of her eleventh birthday if she were as they feared. They were not scared of producing a Squib; they were scared that their daughter might turn resentful, like every normal child of their community, of bring deprived a gift she had seen in every member of her family. They had taught her that it was a treasure, a beautiful and dangerous skill, a weapon she must learn to yield with utmost care, caution and grace. They were scared that their young princess may not get it, owing to the fear that was prevalent in the atmosphere, seeping in the veins of these valiant Slytherins. But when they found their little girl levitating the piano along with her, they were sure that the letter to Hogwarts would be there in 24 months.

"Mother, father look," she said in a calm voice, an attempt by the nine-year old to hide her glee at seeing it herself. "It's levitating, all by my efforts. I just wished that it would lift off the ground like a toy rocket, but quietly. It rose very quietly, and so did I. I'm a witch, aren't I, Mother?" she asked with a gleam in her eye. Her parents were not surprised by the control she exercised on her magic, having been able to do so when they were children

"Oh yes," her father replied with a grin on his handsome face, his green eyes lighting up with happiness and joy, dark raven hair glinting in the light of November. "But you have to come down, my dear, to have your impatient mother wrap you in that cocoon she calls a hug, " he added with a smirk that would best fit James Potter and Sirius Black.

"Watch your tongue, Alexander Cromwell. I am a full-grown adult witch, who is still clutching her wand. If you wish, I could wrap you in a cocoon with the word 'hug' in purple embroidery all over it," Ariana replied. Alexander Cromwell eyed his wife with a playfully suspicious eye.

"Father, could we address the matter at hand?' his daughter, knowing what would ensue next, having peeped through the keyhole once. It really wasn't a pleasant sight to see your graceful, elegant and dignified parents behave like a pair of overemotional, hormonal teenagers, pinned by the wall, kissing each other to breathlessness. It was a reminder to little Alexandra Cromwell, that some things were better left unseen. There was a time and space for them later in life.

And now, she was a teenager.

Alexandra was turning fifteen, after completing four years at Hogwarts and on the verge of starting her fifth, things were going like usual. She was doing well in exams and classes, the one who always came first, yet was never acknowledged. The title of 'first' only seemed legible, legal and visible in front of her fellow Slytherins. Rest all acknowledged Granger, who was in Gryffindor, a house liked by all. She belonged in the house **_loathed _**by all. The Slytherins loathed her, told Alexandra that she'll always be the best, and she knew it. She wasn't jealous of Granger; she never loathed her. She liked her, on the contrary.

Although she wasn't a social person and was very quiet on the whole, it had begun to affect her. Now, she wished for an infinitesimal amount of attention, only to her work, nothing else. Not the sort of attention she received from the boys of Hogwarts, staring at her in the hallway. As if her lithe, willowy figure was worth any looking at, especially hidden beneath her billowing cloaks. She was thin and delicate when it came to looks, yet she had the aura of firmness and an odd sort of durability to her.

Her face was angular, nose pointed, jutting out in the air in a haughty manner. Her green eyes had an odd, piercing quality to them, glinting like emeralds in the sun. All the Slytherins, save Draco Malfoy vyed for her affection, and that was enough to assuage Pansy Parkinson's raging emotions. So didn't Potter. The other girls were not happy, for this had never happened till her fourth year, when she had grown taller, and boys had only seemed to notice what a 'statuesque beauty' she was, with her height and her dark hair, the piercing eyes, the angular face, the regal poise and aura. The effect was dimmed by the Beauxbatons with their Veela looks. But still, all boys from Hogwarts and Durmstrangs, even Viktor Krum, had spared many longing glances to the quiet fourth-year, who was finally left alone after been seeing hexing a Durmstrang with a spell the seventh years had tried to learn, forget master with utter accuracy. He hadn't landed in the Hospital Wing, reason being her quick-fixing, due to which she had escaped punishment from the only teacher who witnessed it - Professor Snape.

That wasn't what she wanted. She just wished her talents were rewarded and seen by people this way and by people who didn't wear the despised colors of green and silver.

She was misunderstood.

She had forgotten the childhood taunts of being the 'one', the child who had been the reason of her parent's rebellion, due to whom her already 'Muggle-loving' parents had become blood traitors in the eyes of the Black family, their first cousins. Even though Sirius never looked at that facet, he knew that the prophecy for their daughter was the reason the Cromwells had been ousted by the Blacks, condemned to never step with the voluntary permission of the 'real' Blacks and not Sirius.

While the Potters, Ariana Cromwell's family, welcomed them with open arms and made them feel like every bit of their family till James' untimely death. He and his wife Lily had died saving their only son, Harry James Potter, who was now better known to the Wizarding community as **_The Boy Who Lived_**.

Harry was never sent to the Cromwells, because try as they may, they would not have the protection that Lily had given Harry, since Ariana or Alexander were not directly related to her. With only Harry's best interests at heart, they put aside all their plans for raising him and sent him away to Petunia Dursley, the only living relative Lily Potter had; and hence Alexandra never met her famous cousin till the Sorting. He didn't know he had a relative in school, and he had no idea even now. Alexandra was determined not to tell him, she was avoiding it on the whole - after all, why would Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, associate himself with a Slytherin, and that too by blood?

She sometimes felt like she was the most accursed human being on the planet. Why did all her happiness have to be marred by sadness? She had a wonderful family, a family being hunted down by Voldemort due to the utterance of certain sentences which formed the bane of her existence, also known as a prophecy. She was brilliant, but her brilliance was never acknowledged due to the house she was in. She could never call her only living relative apart from her parents and Sirius, the one whose family had helped her family in dire straits, her brother.

She was blessed; she was cursed, but more than that, she was just misunderstood.


	2. Unexpected News

Alexandra woke up, gazing at the starry ceiling of her bedroom. It was bewitched to look like a different part of the sky every night. Whenever she would say the name of a constellation, it would glow if it were there on that part of the sky that night. She would often be awake at night, noting down different constellations as she said their names aloud. Today she knew the constellation in the center. Sagittarius.

An owl rapped its wings at her window, flapping rather wildly. She opened the window, the sky not yet ablaze with the sun, and put a Knut in its pouch and it flew away, hooting happily as she sent it with an Owl Treat, putting one in the feeding tray of her black owl, Orion, after brushing her teeth.

"**_Muggle Mayhem - Dementors Spotted in Little Whinging, Statue of Secrecy Breached by Underage_**," read the headlines. Below was another caption, with a picture of the faces she last wanted to see under this.

"**_Boy Who Lived Performs Patronus Outside School, Breaches Statue Of Secrecy, Claiming Presence of Dementors; Ministry Deems Reason Baseless, 'Impossible', Senior Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge denies all claims made by Potter, confirms Minister's decision of trying Potter_**," the caption went.

"Harry? Why would he lie? If there were dementors, only then would Harry have performed his Patronus. It can't be baseless; Umbridge is a liar anyways; a filthy, lying, sucking-up hag.

She would say & do anything to please that bumbling inefficient baboon Cornelius Fudge. And putting Harry under trial? This is nothing short of wrongful accusation and unfair punishment," she said, putting the paper down and racing downstairs to meet her mother, who was one of the Senior Judges at the Wizengamot, and a skilled Auror.

"Mother? Did you see this?" she said in a calm, controlled, yet clearly angry tone.

"Yes, Alexandra. And that is why I am being asked to step down from the investigation," Mrs. Cromwell said, eyes blazing, lips set, a thin line, clutching a piece of fresh parchment in her hand.

"They believe you would be partial to Harry, despite your impeccable record? Fudge has lost his marbles," she said, sitting with an irate sigh at the breakfast table.

"I'd nonetheless agree, my daughter," her father said, stepping out of the fire, his robes covered with ash. "Tergeo," he said, wiping it all off the floor and his clothes. "I just met the Minister last night and was in London to speak to Sirius and other members of the Order. They all believe that Harry had dementors set on him. Professor McGonagall firmly stands by the fact that it is the work of Voldemort, or someone working for him in the Ministry.

I've observed and I'm sure that Fudge isn't under the Imperius Curse, he surely doesn't believe that Voldemort's back. But I have a doubt on his Undersecretary, that Umbridge. That lady seems like a dodgy character, and I'll better inform you, Alexandra, that she will be your new Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher this year. I saw the order in Fudge's hand." At that, Ariana Cromwell nearly choked on her coffee.

"What? That hag will be teaching my daughter & nephew this year?" she asked indignantly.

"I'm afraid so, Ariana," he replied, a grim look on his face.

"That's nonsense," she commented. "Umbridge doesn't know the D of D.A.D.A. What will she teach? Fudge is going to ruin the lives of all the poor fifth and seventh years. He thinks that stupid Ministry-approved course is going to send Voldemort back to his grave; why can't he believe Harry? Just because he wishes to save his sorry self, he isn't given the authority to delude the world.

Voldemort is back, and there is no denying it. Sirius told us what Harry saw, and I saw it while Legilimensing Lucius Malfoy's thoughts."

"I know. I saw it in Rookwood's. Poor Diggory, lost his son, because 'the Dark Lord wished to kill the spare'."

"I saw his body, Mother," Alexandra quietly said. They looked at her, trifle disconcerted seeing her change in attitude. "Cedric's. No sign of torture."

"What Harry says is that he just killed off Diggory," said Alexander.

"Yes, father. They just killed him off. Viktor Krum tried the Cruciatus Curse on him; he was Imperiused."

"Krum? The Bulgarian Seeker?" her mother asked sharply.

"Yes, mother. The very. Delacour had already been Stunned and was swept off his way; he was the one made to make Harry reach the Portkey.

But Harry had helped Cedric and they touched the Portkey together. It is more than obvious that Voldemort didn't want a survivor, witness of his act of murder which didn't happen, and none saw it, but **_I_** **_saw _**the **_Dark Mark _**above the maze; it was hazy, but I saw a flash of green and a snake and a skull even though it happened in Little Hangleton. It was Barty Crouch Jr. disguised as Mooody who did that. But a single student's testimony cannot amount to solid and a proper evidence against him, can it?"

"No, especially when they know we belong to a family that **_loathes _**him."

"I would advise you two not to worry too much about this. Alexander, I'll try to make Fudge see sense, and rather today, since Harry's hearing is a week away," she said, going upstairs to her room. An owl came swooping in, it's leg carrying an official letter.

"Alexandra, school letter," her father said, passing the letter, sipping a strong espresso.

"I've been made prefect," she said tonelessly.

"Who's the boy with you?"

"Draco Malfoy, at least that's what the letter says. Git," she muttered.

"Lucius' son?"

"Yes."

"Then you're absolutely correct. Little git," he muttered in assent. The two looked at each other and laughed.

"Useless little git," her father said with a smile.

"Father, it also says that from this year on, prefects will have an exclusive common room which is not their house's common room and we will now have a separate dormitory. That means I am sharing with three other girls who I may not have even spoken to before. It's a welcome change from a cow like Parkinson and her stupid cronies."

"But this also means patrolling corridors," he added.

"Yes, but do you really think we Slytherins are so dutiful? Nah, Hufflepuffs would be more than willing to take our shifts; want to prove themselves."

"The only reason I was put in Slytherin was that I was a lazy git, who liked, and even preferred leadership but never patrolled corridors when it came to performing the usual prefect duties."

"Anyhow, you'd better pack your trunks for school," her mother said, now at the fireplace.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because you will be coming with us."

"Where?" she asked, face lit up.

"To the meetings."

"Those meetings?"

"Yes, the meetings of the **_Order of the Phoenix,_**" she said as she disappeared in the emerald flames of the Floo Powder.


	3. The Order Of The Phoenix

She went to her room, packing her bag quickly, putting all her folded and laundered robes in her trunk and adding all the books she had kept in the pile. Her father had sent an owl to each of the shops to deliver all her books and materials which she required for her fifth year and she was left to her own devices now. Picking up her MacBook, she quickly opened the official site of the English police and began hacking it. After a few hours a file named 'Frank Bryce' opened up.

"Lived it Little Hangleton, murdered on - that's two weeks before the final of the World Cup!" she declared, a smile on her face. This was proof.

"Postmortem report shows signs of no bodily damage, no cardiac arrests, no heart attacks, no violence, drug abuse or poison. Only an expression of great fear. It has to be that and that only. He has been killed by the Killing Curse. And Little Hangleton, village famous for the Riddle family. A few decades back, Tom Riddle Senior, hm. Murdered in a similar way, a similar expression on his and his parent's faces."

"It's just so, so, so obvious! But still, it's pretty useless for me bringing it up because they wouldn't believe **_Muggle evidence,_**" grumbled, she staring at Orion, who hooted in agreement and affectionately nipped her finger in order to show support.

"Thanks Orion," she said. "You're the only one who supports the testimony of this young witch, **_They_** wouldn't let off Harry. **_Not Harry. _**Just because Cornelius Oswald Fudge has a problem digesting the fact that Voldemort's back, is why my brother has to go through all this trouble," she finished. "At least I get to visit the Order now," she told herself.

She sat and read a book titled _Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy_ while a copy of _The House of Hades_ lay bookmarked by her pillow, and _Artemis Fowl_ lay in the trunk.

Evening came with a characteristic sluggishness when a person waits for it to come with utmost speed. She was pacing in her room, dressed in green long sweater which came till her knees and black jeans, hair open, feet in a pair of ballet pumps.

"Alexandra, we must leave," her father said. She briskly descended the oak staircase and hurried to join her parents. "I will attend the hearing," her mother said with the trace of a smile. "So they finally agreed," she said satisfactorily. "Yes," her mother replied. "Amelia Bones' chief prosecutor, I'm one of the advisory prosecutors."

"Then let's leave," she said, and her parents put their arms around her, the feeling of being squeezed through a tire pressing in on her. They Apparated on the top step of Grimmauld Place, knocking on the door with the griffin knocker.

"Sirius surely has no affection for this piece of land he has inherited," she & her father echoed. Her mother nodded. "I must say, Walburga was an extremely dictatorial mother. That's why he moved in with us; that, and the chocolate and peanut-butter pies Mother made." The other two laughed at that.

"This place looks..." Ariana Cromwell began as they entered.

"Batty? It surely does, but is looking better than the last time I had come. Molly" her husband muttered as Mrs. Weasley came bustling at the door. "Alexander, Ariana, so good to see you," she said, hugging them. "And this is Alexandra, isn't it?"

"Yes, Aunt Molly," she said with a smile. "I'm allowed in, I believe?"

"Yes; Dumbledore just left instructions on letting you be a part, although I'd still say you're too young. You're just Harry's age," she said.

"One is never too young for anything," she replied, and they walked in, the way to the living room lit with candles, casting flickering shadows. She took a look at the staircase, and saw three pairs of brown eyes stare at her. One took a double take as they saw her bright green and her dark hair before a door closed behind them.

* * *

Ginny was waiting with Fred and George to know who that was. It wasn't at all Harry, but the person had the same green eyes, the same dark black hair, but she was a girl. "How is she allowed?" Fred hissed. "She doesn't seem of age!"

"Not fair, mate," replied George. "We've been here since God alone knows when and still we don't have the license to be in. We're of age, for Merlin's sake!"

"She seemed Harry's age," mumbled Ginny. "We'll find out. Where are the Ears?" she asked the two, and they pulled out Extendables, which took a dash towards the door.

"Harry needs the Advanced Guard," said a new man's voice. _It must be the one who came in, _Ginny thought. Fred and George looked at each other, grinning. It had worked.

"Alexander, Apparition is risky, and Floo Network is monitored, and setting up a Portkey is as good as calling the Ministry at our door," said Sirius. "Do we know any Alexander?" Ginny asked the two. Fred shook his head.

"Brooms," a quiet, girl's voice said. It was a girl, because it didn't seem old enough to be a woman's, nor that mature, but the tone was. "We use broomsticks. Harry is an excellent flyer, so are Tonks and Lupin. I really don't know about you, Professor Moody."

"Call me Moody," a gruff voice said.

"Moody, I hope you can fly really well?" said a lady's voice.

"Yes, Ariana; not as well as Harry and Tonks, but as well as Lupin."

"What about the brooms?" asked a younger lady's voice.

"Harry has one," comes a voice that was Lupin's.

"Then I say we go with what she said," said Mr. Weasley. "I would agree on the broomstick suggestion. Who votes in favor?"

"Then I suppose it is quite well settled," a cold voice said. It was Snape's, its coolness sending revulsion down the three's spines.

"Git," they muttered.

"Well, we must leave now; I believe you all have to leave to get Harry out a few hours later. Tonks, diversion?" the new man's voice asked.

"I've done it. Those Muggles won't see a Chizpurfle, not that they can," she replied.

"I hope it isn't Chizpurfles," he replied with a laugh.

"No, Alex. It's a stupid competition for lawns. They'll believe it any day."

"Good. Now we must be off. Ariana has to attend the hearing a week later, and I have to drop her home," he said, signaling to the fifteen-year old girl.

"So they agreed?" Lupin asked, a grin on his face. "Typical Ariana."

"They aren't letting me interrogate. It will be Amelia," she replied. "Harry is a person I would do anything to get this case. They'd flay him alive if I were not going. You know Cornelius. And James wouldn't want this."

"True, after all, you knew him best," said Sirius. "After me, Moony and Lily."

"Yeah, Padfoot, I know," she replied back with a laugh. "You would; after all, who sat with James in the lounge and ate the chocolate peanut butter pies, at midnight, and ate my share too?"

"Nothing comes above food for him," said Lupin, beaming.

"Food is God," said Sirius reverently.

"Another reason why I love you, Padfoot," replied the man. "The reason as to why we were, and are, best friends. Food **_is _**God."

"And that is why you think I starve you," replied Ariana. "Now let's leave." It was a while later, when all of them had left, that Fred, George and Ginny gave each confused and blank looks. Who were they, and how did they know Sirius well? So well the lady spoke as if he was her brother? What if he was?

"Sirius' sis?" George asked.

"Could be, mate," replied Fred.

"She was talking about Harry's dad, wasn't she? James Potter?" it was Ginny. "Yeah, seems like. James Potter was Sirius' best friend," said Fred. "Yeah, so it must be Harry's dad. That means they know Harry well, or at least knew his family quite well," mused George. "Wonder if it's a Pureblood family."

"Why?" asked Ginny. "The way she, the lady, I mean, spoke of Fudge, it sounded like she knew him real well, like the Malfoys," he replied. "That puts the Quaffle in our possession, doesn't it?" said Fred. "It's good that Harry's gonna have backing in the Wizengamot. Who is this Amelia?"

"Is it Madam Bones? Her niece, Susan Bones, Ron's year," said Ginny. "She's in the Wizengamot."

"Could be, then," said George. "Wonder how many judges will try a wizard who's underage and has the name Harry Potter? They're not exactly very fond of him."

"No they aren't," replied Ginny. "Have you seen the Daily Prophet this week? Rita Skeeter's been dishing the dirt on him like anything." They kept abusing Rita Skeeter till the sound of footsteps made them stop. "What are you guys discussing?" asked Ron, who had been upstairs, a cupboard cleaning job been assigned to him and Hermione. "The latest Order meeting," said Ginny. "Blimey! It's already over?" he said, as Hermione sat down with Ginny on the stair.

"Yep, brother. You know, they're not really being clean with us," said Fred in an undertone. "What do you mean?" said Hermione. "I mean a girl your age was allowed to be part of the meeting, and by that I mean **_go in and be part of the meeting,_**" said George, miffed.

"That's not fair!" protested Ron. At that, Fred spared a grim glance to his younger brother.

"Who said life was fair?"


End file.
